The Arms Are Fair, When The Intent

What's Done Cannot Be Undone. To Bed, To Bed, To Bed.

He That Commends Me To Mine Own Content Commends Me To The Thing I Cannot Get. I To The World Am Like A Drop Of Water That In The Ocean Seeks Another Drop, Who, Falling There To Find His Fellow Forth, Unseen, Inquisitive, Confounds Himself: So I, To Find A Mother And A Brother, In Quest Of Them, Unhappy, Lose Myself.

The Violence Of Either Grief Or Joy, Their Own Enactures With Themselves Destroy.

The Icy Precepts Of Respect.

Let The Sap Of Reason Quench The Fire Of Passion.